Flight
by MzShellSan
Summary: The first time that Bilbo goes flying, he's terrified, the sight of the ground he was so accustomed to being so far away so terrifying that even the adrenaline in his veins couldn't squash it. The second time he's terrified for a completely different reason. Not Canon Compliant! Written for Day 8 of my writing challenge: Flight


**30 Day Writing Challenge**

**Day Eight:** Flight

**Fandom:** The Hobbit

**Pairing: **Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Hobbit, or any of the concepts created by Tolkien.

**Flight**

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

The first time that Bilbo goes flying, he's terrified, the sight of the ground he was so accustomed to being under his feet seeming so far away that even the adrenaline in his veins couldn't squash it. He was but a simple hobbit, creature of the goddess Yavanna. Never, should he be in a position where his feet cannot no longer touch the ground, and the earth seems too far.

But as Bilbo had come to accept along this journey, he was not the same as other simple hobbits. Other simple hobbits shy away from adventure. They do not travel, nor do they fight. They stay holed up in their burrows, thankful for the peace and safety of the Shire, yet all so accustomed to it.

It was the life Bilbo had lived for so long. But he'd also come to accept that what he believed to be living was merely a facade of going through the motions, trudging through every thing day by day in the hopes that the way his fingers twitched for excitement would fade, and he would finally feel content.

But he digresses, for the topic he wished to think on wasn't his first flight, but was his second.

Although he was terrified the second time he flew as well, the back of the great eagles much more comforting than its claws, despite being just as far from the earth, it was not his fear of the ground so far away that terrified him during that moment, but the thought of the very person clutched in the claws of the animal.

Thorin, lifeless and pale, holding on but not by much.

The words the man had tried to say to him as he lay there, accepting his death on an ice covered lake _-don't think about the lake_-, echoed in Bilbo's mind. But he would not give up hope. Thorin Oakenshield would not die on this day, or so help him he'd find some magic to bring him back just to kill him again.

Landing, Bilbo watched silently as the dwarves took their king, and people rallied together regardless of their race and previous disposition, helping each other in any way that they can surrounded by the blood and death of a hard won battle.

"Thank you."

No-one else was going to thank the bird, but Bilbo was rather fond of the animal and he knew that it deserved his thanks more than anyone else ever had.

The bird inclined it's head before turning and flying off.

With his manners taken care of, Bilbo swallowed thickly, all too aware that in his rush to get Thorin to safety he had no idea what had become of his other Dwarven companions.

But if felt wrong to stay standing so close to the encampment, despite the presence of so many that were not dwarves. He was not meant to be here. He had done so much wrong, regardless of his reason, and broken so much trust.

The memory of being held over the battlements was still fresh in his mind and it fought hard against the memory of Thorin telling him that they should part as friends.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice anyone coming near him until a hand landed on his shoulder gently.

Jumping, Bilbo swung around quickly, only see Balin standing before him.

"Why are you so far away? Thorin would have you near him as he battled with death."

Frowning, Bilbo shook his head. "There is no way that Thorin is awake just yet, so you cannot know that for sure. I'm much more comfortable over here, yes I am."

"Laddie, you need to get some food in you." Balin tried instead.

Once more Bilbo shook his head. "I'm quite alright, thank you." He denied, despite the gnawing in his stomach that said otherwise.

The older dwarf sighed the same way parents did when their faunts didn't listen to reason.

"The other's would have you close." He insisted.

Bilbo couldn't believe that for a second. After what he'd done there was no way they want him near. But a more pressing concern tugged at his heart. "How are the others?"

Balin smiled wryly. "Everyone survived at the very least. The Ri brother all have minor injuries, cuts mostly. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur are well enough to be wandering around. The brother's Ri are fine, although last I checked Dori was mothering them both so there's nothing to worry about even with the minor cuts and bruises. Dwalin got a couple nastier cuts, but he'll live. Oin and Gloin are fine too. Fili and Kili have the worst injuries other than Thorin, but the both of them have thick skin and even thicker skulls. Give them a week or two and they'll be back to their normal mischief."

Relieved, Bilbo suddenly felt like a weight was lifted from him. "That's good to hear." He admitted.

"You would've known if you'd come further into the camp where the rest of the company is." Balin reminded.

But Bilbo just shook his head. "I will not come any closer until Thorin wakes and asks for me."

A string of not so nice words seemed to leave Balin's mouth, although Bilbo had no idea what they meant.

To further make his point though, the hobbit sat down on the ground, Sting close to his right hand.

With a grumble, the old dwarf seemed to give up for the moment, turning around and making his way back into the camp.

When he was sure Balin was truly gone, Bilbo relaxed. It was better this way. Of that, he was certain.

Over the next week, there were many visits from various members of the company, but none of them managed to get Bilbo to move. Not even Dwalin's threats were enough

"_I swear to Mahal, I will pick you up myself."_

_Bilbo sniffed in offence, but couldn't help his smirk. "I'd like to see you try."_

_He gave a pointed look to the bandages that still covered the dwarves midsection._

After than, Dwalin had left stomping angrily and shouting about how he hoped that Bilbo died before Thorin woke so that he could tell his king that his hobbit was a complete idiot.

It was all extremely dramatic, but it had been the one moment since he'd set up personal camp so far away that Bilbo had forgotten to be worried for a moment, too busy trying to figure out why he was Thorin's hobbit.

But the distraction hadn't lasted long.

Just as Bilbo was getting ready to last out another day, he spotted Dwalin approaching.

Sighing, the hobbit wanted to throw his hands up in frustration. When would they give up?

As if sensing his thoughts, Dwalin grinned further. "Up you get, laddie. Thorin had awoken, and he had requested you in his tent."

For a moment, Bilbo debating asking for that to be repeated, unsure if he'd heard correctly, but he squashed the urge. "Very well. Lead on, Master Balin." He accepted finally, unable to come up with any reason to deny them this time.

He had said that he'd join them when Thorin woke and if he requested Bilbo, after all.

Trailing after the older dwarf, nerves buzzed under his skin. What would Thorin say? Would he take back the words from when he thought he would die? Or perhaps repeat them?

There were many possibilities, and the hobbit was having a hard time thinking through them all.

But the one thing he did not consider, was that Thorin was not always a man of words, but rather a man of action. And his actions this time, were clear.

The third time Bilbo experienced flight, it was in the metaphorical sense, heightened by his physical state of being where in his lips were pressed against Thorin's.

The shock wore off quickly enough, and the hobbit pushed back, kissing fiercely in return.

Speaking would have to come later.

Even this type of flying was terrifying, but as Bilbo was beginning to learn, he was not a simple hobbit who shied away from danger. No, he'd much rather dive straight in.

And dive he did.


End file.
